


stepped out of the cold grave and onto the pyre

by cordkitty



Series: One Shots and Prompts and Stuff for Lokil Lavellan [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: DWC, F/M, Smut and Angst, Solas Smut, Solas howling at the moon, Tumblr, beginning of a relationship, lonely egg, not too explicit tho, sad egg, sexy egg, the egg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 15:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16725888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordkitty/pseuds/cordkitty
Summary: Solas howling at the moon, deliberating whether or not to yield to his fancies. Or is it more than that?*mild smut*





	stepped out of the cold grave and onto the pyre

This night is long.

All of them are, always. He, the dreamer, cannot find sleep of all things, and it is stretching him thin. The thoughts of what was and what has to be once more one day pull on the edges of his straining mind and so blur what is right in front of him. He cannot see clearly anymore.

 _She_ pricks little holes in the fabric he has been weaving of his plans to make up for his fatal miscalculations. She tweaks and twists and pulls gently, but the conflict it causes is sharp.

And he never gets a moment’s peace to sort through his confusion. _They_ are always ready to spring another trap whenever everything around him quiets down.

 _The day comes soon, traitor._ Smirking voices in the murky corners of his mind.

_All of it will burn once more, at your hands._

Is this to be his legacy?  

_The time for doubting is past. You know that ending this world is the only choice left._

No, things have changed. There must be _-_

_Can you truly claim love? It is nothing but childish infatuation. Nothing but chance has made you stumble across her path. The traitor who brought down an empire lacks the will to deny a little girl._

_She must burn with the rest of them. Burn. Her._

Solas roams his ancient castle’s halls and corridors in a daze, trying desperately to drown them out. His head is aching, pounding; he finds himself clutching it, as if this would help contain them. His mind is running in circles. It is torture - and yet the more their screeching pierces his thoughts, the greater the temptation to hurl himself into her path in an attempt to silence them. End their assault and end this pain.

 _Don’t delude yourself. There is no end to this. You know what must come after. -_ Shut up. - _Indulge yourself for now, if you must. -_ Quiet! _\- But no such trivial pleasure will change what you know to be true. -_ No, it is more than that. She is more.

_***_

When the cold grey light of dawn begins to trickle through Skyhold’s tall windows, Solas feels so drained, his knees must surely collapse on the next step. There is no more refuge to be had outside of her gentle ways, whatever may come after. He has known for a while now,  in some corner of his mind, that he _is_ going to give in eventually, and maybe there is some peace to be had in this after all. His tired mind is longing to be put to rest.

 _They_ fall silent the moment the door clicks behind him.

Here, the light is soft and dim, and the peaceful silence leaves a slight ringing in his ears. He feels as if he had entered a different world altogether from the one he has been wandering blindly all night.

He has not entered this room since it became hers. But now he is slowly ascending the stone steps to the upper landing, marvelling at the serenity and boyish nervousness that slowly seep into his thoughts in equal measure simply at the thought of _being close_. He is afraid of bringing his demons here. But with every step forward, they draw back. Why should it feel so natural and so right to be here, so early in the morning and in such a private moment; surely, she wants her peace. But he still doesn’t feel like an intruder.

When he arrives at the topmost step he instinctively turns his head in the direction of the only sound in the room.

Her breathing is slow and steady, but it fills his head completely; waves of this soft sound are crashing over his ears, stifling _them_ more with every step further into the room. He imagines a deaf man hearing music for the first time in his life and how strange that must feel, instinctive but still so unknown.

She is lying on her back, one arm above her head, the other resting on her belly, rising and falling with her deep breaths. White linen sheets cover the bare skin on her chest. She _did_ say she expected him to come here; but did she mean this? Maybe she only wanted him here last night, while she was still awake and in control of what he would see of her upon entering her private space. Was she sitting up, waiting for him? Should he wake her up now or leave her in peace? But his feet have already taken him the last few steps to stand beside her bed while he is still wondering if it is acceptable for him to be here.

Her dark eyes were sparkling at him from every corner of the room last night, while the many guests who were invited to the feast they held in celebration of her recovery were chattering and laughing around them. A waft of drink hung heavily in the air that did nothing to help clear his head afterwards when he was trying to erase thoughts of her sweetly wicked half-smiles and obsessing over every possible meaning they could hold. They circled each other all night, each looking for a moment’s opportunity in which to exchange just a few words. But he was not the only one wanting her attention and no opportunity presented itself until she was already on her way up to her tower.

He had already resolved to retire to the rotunda, childish disappointment and the strangest pinpricks of jealousy needling his mind at the thought that everyone had gotten their chance to talk to her and wish her well except for him, even though none of them _needed_ to make sure as he did. “Solas…”. She spoke his name so softly he barely would have heard, if he hadn’t been so overly conscious of her presence and the soft cadences of her low voice. “I’ll…” She sounded breathless, unsure; but a gentle smile played around the corners of her mouth and she went on, slow and deliberate. “I’ll… wait for you.” She smiled more freely once the words were out and turned to leave through the door behind her, leaving him lost for words. He had not expected this. Despite the nervousness he sensed in her, he still marvelled at how she was so willing to invite him in.

Now that he is so close, studying the blissfully calm expression on her face as she is sleeping, he fully appreciates that there was little point in fighting this after those few stolen moments of last night; that must be when he fell over the edge. He takes another step towards her when she turns her head on her pillow and slowly opens her eyes. Sleep clears quickly from her expression and she looks at him calmly, a small smile gracing her face upon recognizing him. She seems so unsurprised to see him here. Solas is reminded of the first time he saw her, lying unconscious on the stone floor of a prison cell. She looked at him with that same strange intimacy then, as if she had fully expected to see him there upon waking up.

“You took a long time to decide.” Her voice is still sluggish from sleep. He doesn’t answer. He is searching her face for any reason as to why she is so ready to have him this close to her. How does she not see cracks in his mind? He feels as if his lies must burst through his eyes at any moment. Without realizing, he has sat down next to her, still staring, disbelief at her calm familiarity likely etched into his face. But she is still smiling quietly and she sits up, holding her bed sheets close. Solas feels his brows knitting together softly, still unable to determine what madness made him finally decide to come here. His efforts to keep his mind on his duty are wiped away at the sight of her here and now, and her sleepy smiles makes them suddenly seem feeble. Her long, straw-coloured hair is falling messily down her back and over her freckled shoulders and, inexplicably, a small daisy is sitting at her temple as if it had always belonged there. When he doesn’t move or speak, she slowly sits up on her ankles and, putting her marked hand to the side of his face, brings her forehead to his. “I’m glad you did come here after all.”

The current of the Anchor pricks the skin on his face, and with its pulsing beat, _they_ are becoming more discernible again. But the Anchor’s magic softens too at the touch of her warm blood and there is silence once more.

Her steady breaths and the heat of her body so close to his are making his head swim. She moves her lips to his, keeping her eyes on his, measuring for his reaction. Solas still feels dazed at how such a simple moment could drown out the screeching and lamenting voices that have become a part of who he is. Here, in her presence, they don’t seem so unavoidable anymore. Her kiss is gentle, but she breaks it to look at him, quiet questions in her eyes; and Solas realizes that he has stopped breathing, unable to take it in. He leans into another kiss, bending her backwards, so she has to hold onto his neck. He tenderly tries to nudge her beneath his body. How is it that this seeing, knowing creature does not sense the traitorous trembling of his arms?  She offers him this without ever questioning if he deserves it. There is honey on her lips, and he sinks into the kiss, allowing her to drop her weight into his arms, holding her there. Her touch is so familiar, but at the same time, he feels as if he has never known any woman’s touch at all. He can feel her heartbeat then, as she is lying in his arms, and he wonders if she can hear both of his.

Forgetting himself, he lets his hands rake down her body, swallowing her every breath and her soft moans. He buries his face in her hair, breathing in its strange scent freely this time. His cold body, so unseen for such a long time, moulds willingly to every warm touch and every one of her movements; and he looks into her eyes, watching sensation flicker across her face as he enters her slowly. He wants to study every detail of her body, count every freckle and place as many kisses as she has moans. There is not enough time to give her everything he wants to give. But for now, being as close to her as possible is all he can do.

And as he softly pushes into her - for this moment - he pushes aside the memory of the man he was when he entered this room just a few minutes ago.

Let this love be that man’s pyre.


End file.
